Falling From Heaven
by Asphyxia
Summary: Saitou x Aoshi. Insomnia leads to a late-night encounter--and a confession best kept secret.


**Author's Notes**: Well, another kinky late-night offering from me. This time it's Rurouni Kenshin that has to suffer. *cackles madly* Hope you like it. It's an Aoshi POV.

**Spoilers**: None, I think…tell me if I'm wrong.

**Rating**: PG-13, I guess.

Falling From Heaven

By Asphyxia

~*~*~

It isn't terribly surprising that I am unable to sleep tonight. It's just one more in a long series that has been going on for what seems like years. I can't even remember the last time I slept peacefully. But as they say, there is no rest for the wicked—and I fit that definition better than anyone knows.

It could be that this insomnia stems from being in an unfamiliar place—in this case, the Kamiya dojo. I'm not quite used to being indoors at night, so it is very disorienting to stare at a wooden ceiling instead of the stars. The invitation to stay here is somewhat tempting, but I don't know if I could lead a life as simple as the ones of the others. I still have not let go of my dead comrades, and of the anger I feel at myself. Misao, I believe, is waiting for me to do so. I fear she may wait a very long time.

I throw back the blanket and get to my feet, careful not wake the other inhabitants of the dojo. Quietly, I creep towards the neat and folded pile of my clothing, taking my pants and slipping them on. From the top of the pile I take my kodachi. I place the short sword into my waistband and with a furtive glance steal out of the room.

The night air is refreshing to me as I step onto the ground outside my room. Moonlight floods the open space, giving it a white, haunted look that makes me shiver. Carefully, I pad towards the center and draw my blade from its sheath. Once more I check to make sure no one has heard me. As I confirm that I am alone, I begin.

I can see the moon reflected in the cold metal of the blade. It makes it glow and flash eerily as I perform the techniques I am famous for on the shadowy air around me. I imagine the sword tearing through flesh and sinew and bone, as it has done on many an occasion. There is complete silence all around, save for the light sound of my breathing. I pause briefly and close my eyes, centering my energy. Then, I begin my dance of swords.

"A bit late, wouldn't you say?" A dark and sardonic voice, one I recognize but cannot place, comes to me from the shadows. Immediately I whirl around and drop into a fighting stance, wary of my surroundings for the first time. The voice chuckles, and as I watch the dark line of trees that marks the back of the dojo, a pair of golden eyes appear. Before I can react, the owner of the eyes steps out of the darkness.

I see a tall, thin man, clothed in black, his face hidden by the hat of a policeman. He is armed, and a cigarette burns between lips I cannot see. He looks up, just enough to show me his mouth, and smiles thinly. In that instant I know him, and his name escapes in a breath from me.

"Saitou Hajime…" He raises his head, finally allowing me to see his golden wolf's eyes, then laughs quietly.

"Good to see you, Shinomori," he says, smoke issuing forth from his lips as he speaks. He walks towards me, one hand in his pocket, the other taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking it to the side. The tiny point of light reminds me of a falling star as it flies off into the darkness. My eyes lock with his.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. He doesn't answer, offering me only a cryptic smile as a response. I find myself unable to look away from him—I am like a rabbit that watches the fox come to it, fascinated by the nearness of my own death. Next thing I know he is in front of me, our gazes still on one another. I realize how close he is to me, yet I don't move. We stand there, frozen in our tableau, until he speaks in a low, quiet voice.

"What is it that you fear, Shinomori?" he asks me, almost whispering. Though his voice is gentle, I know that his mind is sharp—perhaps even sharper than the blade I am still holding. He studies my face with an unnerving calmness, his cunning evident in his angular face. As I respond to him, I suddenly become aware of how naked I am compared to him.

"I fear nothing," I answer softly. "Especially not you."

A cruel smile spreads across his face, chilling me to the bone. The hand that has been in his pocket slips out and brushes my collarbone lightly, the touch fragile and ghostlike. It makes me shiver just a little, but despite my efforts to conceal it he feels it. The smile fades and the hand settles on my neck. He leans close to me, his eyes burning like embers.

"Oh," he whispers, "I think you do fear me." His fingertips rest on my skin, feeling my pulse as it begins to race. The hand slides back and up, cupping my head gently as the fingers tangle themselves in my hair. He pulls me close until my bare chest is pressed against the rough fabric of his uniform. Tipping my head back, he raises his other hand and runs a long, slender finger along my jaw. His lips are very close to mine, even as he whispers to me.

"I think…you do."

Then, in one swift motion, he pulls me up and kisses me. The kiss is hard, passionate; his tongue dominates mine with little effort. My body begins to melt into his arms, despite my mind's screaming at me that this is my enemy. But at this very moment I don't care, even as my kodachi slips from my fingers and falls to the grounds. Unconsciously, my hands slide up onto his chest and his arm snakes around my waist, crushing me to him. The kiss is burning my lips with its intensity, but I don't want it to end.

Suddenly, that powerful heat is gone, and I can no longer feel his arm on my waist or his hand in my hair. I struggle to catch my breath, anger at myself flowing through my veins. I am humiliated for letting my guard down so easily. He is watching me, his lips bruised and his expression indifferent. He raises a cigarette to those lips and flicks a match with his fingernail, the tiny flame flaring up as it lights the tobacco. Then the flame is gone, and once more all I can see are his eyes. He smiles and turns away from me, raising one hand in salutation as he walks away.

"See you around, Shinomori…"

It takes me a few precious seconds to come to my senses, but when I do all I can think of are his kiss…and his words. I ignore the goose bumps on my skin as I bend down to pick up the kodachi blade, sliding it back into its sheath. I turn away slowly, as he did to me, and walk back to my room. Before I go inside, though, I pause and look at the moon, which seems to be watching me with a sort of vicious amusement. One terrible thought echoes in my head as I shiver under the moonlight.

_I have been kissed by the devil._

~owari~


End file.
